


the chaos

by pnkpnthr48



Category: Bates Motel (2013)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-16 12:36:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13636419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pnkpnthr48/pseuds/pnkpnthr48
Summary: He's not sure when it truly began, but he can pinpoint the moment he checked in is when it really started. But words like "began" and "started" are just that; words.And there is no time for semantics when the chaos that circles around her seeps though every door, and every window; a chaotic house bursting at the seams.#The Romero pov that no one asked for.





	1. one

The very moment he checks in he’s already sick of her (he’s been telling himself he’s been sick of her since day one). Sick of her questions, sick of her exhausting energy.  He knows he should take it easy; he’ll have a stroke before the end of the month if he doesn’t.

But he’s dealing with insurance, and he has to meet up with home developers to build a fucking new house. It’s a long to do list, and somewhere between all of that is _find Zane and kick his ass_ , and _beg Norma to leave him alone._

When the developer doesn’t answer his phone, he decides that he should go ahead and just bump up _kick Zane’s ass_ on his to do list. And besides, the last thing he wants to think about is the dimensions of his living room, and whether he wants a stucco, or brick exterior.  

He’s decided he’ll just have a stroke. It’s fine. Whatever. 

#

When he comes back to the motel after checking off _kick Zane’s ass_ on his to do list, Norma sees him. He rolls his eyes as he walks up the steps to her house. She harasses him into coming up so she could clean up his face, and he’s not sure how or why, but all of the sudden they’re making small talk at her kitchen table. And when he hears she’s been talking to Nick Ford he sits up straighter. He doesn’t like how worried that made him. But he wants her to be safe. He doesn’t dwell on it though, because above all, he wants to be left alone. 

And he knows that her cleaning up his face is just a means to an end. Maybe she’ll leave him alone, and he’ll be able to check that off his to do list too (but he knows she won’t). 

#

He wakes up to knocking on his door on his day off. Then he hears Emma’s voice. She announces its housekeeping and something about towels and sheets. He gets up, and by the time he answers the door he feels like he got hit by a bus. 

“Are you alright?” She asks, handing off towels. 

“Yeah, just a cold. Thanks Emma.” He winces at the sound of her loud voice, and the bright sunlight pouring into his room.

“Do you need any-“

“I really don’t,” he cuts her off. “I’m sorry, no I’m fine.” 

“Feel better,” she mumbles as she leaves. 

He sets the towels and sheets down on the dresser, takes some Nyquil, and passes out, for what he hopes will be the rest of the day.

#

Unfortunately, later in the day there’s a harsher knock on the door. It’s Norma and he knows it. He also knows why she’s here, and suddenly he regrets telling Emma he was sick. 

“Yes, Norma.”

“I know you won’t let me take care of you.”

“That’d be correct.”

“How’d you even get a cold in the summer? Probably all that worrying, you honestly need to-”

“Norma, wha- why are you here? He shifts his weight to the middle of the door frame, blocking her from his room.

“Where’s your phone?” she asks stepping past him barging into his room anyway. 

“What are you doi-“ he chokes out a cough, “can you please just leave.”

“You sound awful, you can really hear it in your lungs.” She pulls his phone off the charger on the nightstand. “It’s locked.”

“Yeah, it is,” he snatches his phone back from her, “What do you want?”

“I was going to give you my number so you can text me if you need anything.”

“Do you do this to all your guest? Do their laundry and give out your number?”

 She rolls her eyes, “5 4 1 5 5 5 0 1 3 3”

“Couldn’t you have, just like, written it down and slid it under the door?”

“Bye,” she smirks and leaves. 

He takes more Nyquil and finally changes his sheets and passes out. This time for the rest of the day. 

#

Things are fine for the most part. Norma gives him shit for working too hard and not giving himself enough time to get better. Things _were_ fine until she asks about how his house was coming.

“Dylan didn’t tell you?” he asks while fixing his coffee.

“Oh um, I haven’t talked to Dylan. He- he moved out.”

He briefly freezes while pouring cream into his coffee; unsure what he stumbled into. 

“Oh. Well someone he works with did it.”

“Someone Dylan works with torched your house?”

“Yes,” he finally turns around. “Dylan’s bo-“

“Dylan didn’t do it,” she interrupts him before he could finish.

“Norma, I know.” It comes out harsher than he wanted it to. “Dylan’s boss did it.”

“Did you arrest him?”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

He expects her to ask why. But she doesn’t, she just nods her head.

“Bye Norma,” he mumbles into his coffee and heads out the door. 

#

Later that night when he’s coming home he looks up at the house. He sees a light turn on as he’s unlocking the door to his room. He sees a shadow walk past the window, and he freezes when he realizes that the shadow is undressing, and who the shadow is. He continues to watch until he realizes what he’s doing, what she’s doing, and his eyes go wide.

He respects her privacy by walking into his room quickly.

But he doesn’t exactly honor it when it’s half past one and he’s wide awake and that image, of her, undressing is still on his mind. 

# 

A few days later he’s at work, on the phone with his insurance company when his phone buzzes next to his ear. He glances at it and sees it’s from Rebecca. He puts his phone back to his ear until it buzzes again. 

_Hey. I know you’re really busy with your house and all. I just haven’t heard from you and I hope you’re alright._

_Just text me if you want to meet up._

He shakes his head and when he finally hangs up, and considers turning his phone off for the day. He’s not sure why he wants to be left alone, he just isn’t in the mood for people.

As he’s powering off his phone it buzzes again.

_And you know, you could just stay at my place instead of having to rent a room at a shitty motel._

He types out a quick message.

 _Sorry I’ve been busy lately. And thanks, but no thanks, I’m allergic to cats, remember?_  

He powers his phone off, throws it in his drawer, and enjoys the silence. So much so, he almost forgets it in his desk. 

#

They end up meeting up at her place anyway. Bringing a woman to a motel room isn’t really something he wants to, or should be doing.

He’s there all of two minutes before Rebecca grabs his jacket collar and kisses him.

They don’t even make it to her room. They walk in that general direction, but she pushes him into the wall with her arms around his neck. He didn’t realize how much he wanted this, because within the next few seconds he flips them both around where she’s pinned up against the window. He can’t help but smile when he hears the sound of their bodies hitting the window; it’s so juvenile. He pulls his lips apart from hers, and feels her struggling to unbuckling his pants. He makes a motion with his head to the bedroom.

Partially because he doesn’t want to have sex standing up, it’s difficult, tiring, and near impossible. He’s also slightly confused. Something is off, usually they fool around for half an hour or so. Part of him doesn’t even care, not about her, just about this situation. He’s tired, he just wants to lay down. But she declines the invitation to her bed, and just turns her back to him. He’s not sure what she’s doing, but he’s in sync with her every movement. And all the sudden she’s pressed up against the glass and he’s taking her right there.   

He places his hand over hers on the window. He feels the cold glass of the window on under his fingertips; it worries him. And it’s not that it really matters, the window looks out to her very private back yard. What worries him is that when he’s kissing her neck when he thinks of Norma, innocently undressing. He thinks of watching her. He thinks of wanting her. He thinks about what it would be like to have her here in this position. He thinks of her touchi-

Rebecca mumbles something that turns into a moan, but he’s too disgusted with himself to hear it. 

He tries to think about Rebecca. He really does. But he. Just. Can’t. 

The window. He’s watching her window. She’s innocently undressing in the window. He’s fucking Rebecca against a window. That’s what he’s doing right now. He’s trying to stay present, but she’s flickering in his mind.

They finish on the couch and he leaves within the hour. 

He’s driving back to the motel, and his eyes are watery and itchy, despite her best effort of putting the cats in the bathroom for the evening. He considers bringing her to the motel next time, but the thought makes him feel nauseous. 

It’s because he’s a public official, that’s what he tells himself. He just can’t be caught bringing a woman into his motel room.  

Because fucking a woman against a window is much better. 

He has to stop on the side of the road to throw up.

 #

When he sees Norma, he doesn’t make it awkward. He just stays short and to the point when he’s talking; and he almost doesn’t want to tell her. Not for any other reason other than, just because, well, how does that conversation even start? 

When she approaches her about getting Lee Burman’s spot on the council, he lets her walk away until he feels that twinge of guilt, and it’s just too much to ignore. 

“Well sometimes at night, when you leave your light on in the bedroom, you can see right through those curtains.”

“You can?” 

She looks genuinely shocked, so at least it wasn’t some desperate ploy for attention or- he doesn’t know. 

“Yeah.”

And with that he retreats to his car and avoids her for the next few days.

#

It’s weird to separate himself from his job. He doesn’t really like it. Which is probably why he’s stayed single for so long. Well, he has Rebecca, but that’s beside the point. 

To him, Sheriff Romero and Alex Romero are the same person. But even he feels odd discussing Norman, and Jimmy Brennen’s death with her after weeks of “Morning, how are you, fine thanks, yeah, it did rain a lot, yeah, maybe we’ll get some sun this weekend, no I don’t need anything, thanks, yeah have a good day too.”

God, he acts like he’s never made small talk before. 

But he forgets how shrill she can be until she’s at the station, demanding to see her son, talking about lawyering up, and telling him her son is innocent. 

Although she’s neither the one guilty nor innocent here, she believes Norman was defending himself and Cody, and so does he.

He gives her the benefit of the doubt because she knows people are often anxious or frustrated when they’re innocent and involved in something like this; it's how he knew she killed Keith Summers. She was far too calm and collected compared to what she’s like now. He glances over and sees her pacing and fiddling with the tie on her pink blouse. 

If he had children, he’d understand, or at least he thinks he would. The uncertainty of having your child being held for questioning probably doesn’t feel great. He fights the urge to tell her it’ll be okay, because it’s Norma Bates, and for her things are very much not okay. He’s already told her this is procedure, and this is how it has to happen, but there’s a part of her that’s unnecessarily anxious. But because he doesn’t have a death wish, he keeps that to himself. 

#

Once everything Jimmy Brennen’s death is officially ruled an accident, he tells Norma. He knew it would, everyone’s stories lined up. When he stops by she’s understandably relieved. He’s happy that she can take this weight off her shoulders. He’s apologizing and thanking her for being patient and he realizes that in this moment he’s not the Sheriff. He’s Alex. He’s talking to her as Alex. 

He sits in his car for a moment before driving off. He’s finally seeing the distinction between the two. 

#

There’s a calmness that comes and goes at the Bates Motel, and for now it’s calm. He’s not sure for how long, but it’s calm now. It’s like he can sense the chaos that comes and goes, which he probably can. He’s good at his job for a reason. 

He’s drinking alone the evening he gets a phone call that he knows will disturb the calm. 

Of fucking course, the semen sample had to match to Norman. 

Things are not chaotic yet, and honestly, he’s not sure it’ll be a big deal. Norman having sex before Blair Watson was murdered means nothing, except that Blair Watson had sex with minor. 

He's getting his morning coffee in the motel office. He feels Norman’s eyes on him, and he feels the chaos coming.

#

He wouldn’t even bring it up if he hadn’t heard about Norman going to Blair Watson’s grave as frequently as he did. He understands the kid was grieving. But high school kids that have sex with their teachers right before they were murdered don’t grieve for four months. Or at least he assumes so, he's never been in that boat.

The situation is just too odd to ignore. He decides not to do anything until he asks Norman about it. He’ll judge his reaction and make a decision from there.

He’s not sure what his reaction should be. Norman didn’t seem like the kind of high school boy that’d be proud of having sex with a teacher. He figures he’d be embarrassed and ashamed. He understands keeping it quiet, especially because the woman was literally murdered the same night. 

He’ll approach it delicately. Best case scenario? Norman tells the truth and maybe has a breakdown in his motel room. Worst case scenario? 

He can’t even finish the thought. Because it’s so ridiculous, right?

He takes a deep breath, knocks down his shower curtain, and heads up to the house to ask for Norman's help.

#

He demands a polygraph. Kyle Miller may not have killed Blair Watson, but he has to know Norman didn’t. 

He wanted to keep Norma out of it. Assuming she didn’t already know, and he was willing to bet she didn’t. But when she starts acting odd when he asks about Norman he needs to tell about the sample. He’s not a mother, but he figures that what he has to tell her is something no mother wants to hear. 

She convinces him to wait another day. Which is less than ideal, because he needs answers. 

But when the next day comes he finds out Nick Ford has Norman. He briefly wonders if Norma is lying, until he sees the sheer panic on her face.

Later when he and Dylan bring Norman to the hospital, he sees Norma getting out of her car as he’s leaving. He tells her that Norman is fine, but this is far from over. 

# 

He passes. He fucking passes the polygraph. He’s not sure why he’s surprised. He wouldn’t let himself think that Norman killed Blair Watson, but he is shocked. It dosen’t make sense.

After the shock wears off he feels guilty. He feels guilty that he put Norma, Norman, and to a lesser extent Dylan, through all this. He’d feel worse if he failed the polygraph, for obvious reasons. But at least he can continue to put this on Kyle Miller. Norman is a kid, and he’s not above running his life _if_ he deserved it, but at least he can chalk the whole thing up to a messy situation of inappropriate teacher-student conduct.

He’s not sure if he should apologize or use the “it’s just procedure” cop-out that he's used so many times before. So, he just thanks Norma for being cooperative and leaves the building before he has a chance to see Norman. 

When he’s driving home, he sees a light green Mercedes following him back to the motel, so he makes a random left turn into the village to do literally anything else but not run into them. 

He considers checking into Kings for the rest of the time he’s without a home. But to check out now and leave? It feels weird, he can’t name the feeling, but it just doesn’t feel right.

(The word he's looking for is embarrassed)

#

Just like that he’s back to avoiding her, and Norman, and Dylan. So, when Rebecca calls him, he jumps at the chance to go over and remembers takes a Benadryl before. 

This time they end up in her bedroom. The sex is fine, good even. Before passing out in her bed, he has a brief thought that he shouldn’t be doing this. He knows Norma will notice his car isn’t there, not that he cares or anything (and he doesn’t care), and Norma shouldn’t either. 

He wakes up a few minutes after six in the morning and is thankful that he wears the same uniform five days a week. He gets dressed quietly slips out of her house and heads to work.

#

“Where were you last night?” 

“The station.”

“Alex, you know I have two kids right, I know you’re lying.”

“Does it matter?”

She shrugs and goes back to closing up the office. He fiddles with his keys to find the one to his room. 

“I’m making dinner for Dylan. Do you want to come up?” She asks while locking the office door. 

“Norma,” he sighs. “Shouldn’t you-“ he pauses; debating if he wants to even finish his sentence. “Shouldn’t you be angry with me? After all, I did accuse your son of capital mur-”

“He’s innocent Alex,” Her voice is low, like she’s still trying to convince herself. 

“I know.”

“Come up for dinner, everything is fine. We’re fine.”

There is absolutely no reason to say yes, but he does. 

“Let me change,” he says as motions to his room. 

 #

When he gets up to the house, Norma opens the door and tells him to wait in the living room. Dylan comes out of the kitchen with two beers they sit and make awkward small talk.

He looks around, “Norman here?" 

“Oh no, he’s out with Emma. Movies I think.”

He nods his head, “I just wanted to apologize to him. It’s been an odd summer, for him anyway.”

“Yeah,” Dylan chuckles. “I think he understands you were just doing your job.”

Alex nods silently. 

“You know, we’re really grateful for all you’ve done for us.” Dylan says, looking straight forward and twirling the bottle between his fingers. “And Norma is glad you’re staying here. She says it’s free security with the sheriff’s SUV parked out front.”

He looks down at his beer, “Of course, this isn’t an easy town to live in.”

He’s not even sure what that means, or why he even says it. 

“You would know,” Alex adds with a chuckle.

“You know,” Dylan begins, “I guess it doesn’t matter that were having a beer together. Or it doesn’t matter anymore. 

Alex shakes his head and feigns a smile, “No I guess it doesn’t.”

“You kicked the shit out of my boss,” Dylan chuckles. “Then you killed him.”

“Yeah, I guess I did,” he mumbles into his beer glass.

Norma calls them in the kitchen before she steps outside to get herbs from the garden, and he sees fresh flowers in front of the open window and sees Dylan making three place settings; and he wonders if her life has always been like this. So inviting, and caring, and so warm; and he’s slightly jealous of both Norman and Dylan. 

They all sit down for dinner and it’s scares him how good it feels. 

He wanted to just eat and go back to his room, but he finds himself still there finishing a glass of wine (when did he let her pour him some?), and making actual conversation with the women who he sees every morning, and the guy who played a leading role in the drug trade. It sounds the beginning of a bad joke. 

They clear the table and he motions to the door with his head and mumbles a quick “thank you” and something about turning in for the night.

“Oh, I’ll walk you out.”

“It’s fine, I can show myself out.”

She rolls her eye, walks him to the patio, and wraps her arms around him. And for the first time since being in his twenties that he wishes he had more to drink, that way he could blame alcohol for giving her a small kiss on the on her head. However, she is the one who gives him a quick peck on the check a little too close to the corner of his mouth. He lowers his hands and slides them down her arms just to let go. And he catches himself looking at her with this intensity that he didn’t know he had inside of him.

“Goodnight, Norma.”

“Goodnight, Alex.”

 #

He’s back to avoiding her. Maybe he shouldn’t use the word avoiding. Being busy and staying out of her way is a better way to put it. His house almost ready and he’s very ready to have a home again. 

It’s not until he’s getting boxes to put all his crap in, he realizes that he’s actually not that happy about leaving. 

When he says bye and forcefully gives her a check he doesn’t know what to do. He makes that very clear by going in for a hug when she was going to give him a handshake, and standing with his face too close to hers right before she gives him a kiss on the cheek. 

Cool, he’s a high school girl now.  

 


	2. two

After seeing her wonder around in the bushes of Bob Paris’ party he sends Norma a quick text saying not to worry too much. He says something about how prostitution is risky, and sometimes these women go unheard from for a few days. He doesn’t want to be callous, but from a law enforcement standpoint; it nothing new. But he’s sorry that she’s dealing with it. 

His ease about the whole thing is completely a façade though. He’s worried because Bob Paris isn’t a great guy and, Norma said Norman was the last person to see her.

And even though he doesn’t live at the motel anymore, he senses the chaos seeping into his life again. 

When he gets to his house he has a message from Norma.

_I’m just worried that’s all._

_I know you are. Let me know if you or Norman hear from her._

_I will. Let me know if anything happens._

_Okay. Goodnight._

_Goodnight Alex._

# 

“Hey Alex, what’s going on?”

“Norma, I need you to get down to the morgue.”

“What, why?”

“We found—um, there’s no nice way to put this, but we found a girl, close to the description you gave of Annika Johnson, floating in-”

“Oh my god.”

“I-I need you to confirm it’s her”

“I- uh” 

“Norma? Are you still there?" 

“Yes.”

“Okay, were here right now. I’ll text you the address."

“Okay.”

# 

_Norma, I’m sorry to have to ask you to do that._

_It’s okay, I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help._

_It helps speed things up, so thank you._

_Did she suffer?_

_I’ll know more when the medical examiner’s report comes back._

_Let me know if you hear from Annika. I’ll call a tow truck for the car._

_Okay. Just let me know what else I can do._

_Okay. And thanks again Norma._

#

After talking to Norman he figures he is, in all likelihood, innocent. He figures this has everything to do with Bob Paris, and nothing to do with Norman. But the next day when he responds to a call saying someone may be dead on the Bates’ property; he sees Norman outside; just staring at Annika.

He’s worried, he’s not even sure why he’s worried. But he is. 

When he talks to Norma up at the house she’s fed up with him, and he’s tired because he’s been getting no sleep, the election is coming up, and now has two dead girls with links to Bob Paris. 

He wants to believe Norma is telling him everything, but he’s smarter than that.

That night he falls asleep on his couch with a bottle of scotch thinking about all the moving parts to this. The dead girls, Norma, Bob Paris, Norma, the Arcanum Club, Norma, Norman, and Norma.

Norma. 

#

Once he knows there’s a missing flash drive he search’s Annika’s room. He’s almost certain it’s near or at the motel. And by on or near the motel, he means that Norma probably has it. Because he’s searched everywhere in this motel room and it’s not here.

He meets up with Bob again and he’s just so fucking over it. It’s not that chaos won’t leave the Bates’ family alone; they just seem to find a way to get in the middle of it, constantly. And he _so_ does not have time for this shit. 

_Norma, I know there’s a flash drive, and I know you have it. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you need to give it up ASAP._

She never responds. What she does do is come over to his house late that night, and he just knows what is about to come. She stands in front of the door and neither of them say anything for a moment. 

“Can I trust you? I mean, like, really trust you. You know, sometimes you’re Alex, sometimes you’re a cop.”

He almost wants to say no and shut the door in her face because he’s not sure what to do with a question like that. 

“I- I don’t know, Norma. I think you can. I’ll do my best.”

His heart stops when she says she has it. He pulls her into the house. 

They bicker. He wants her to take him to where it is, and when she won't, he makes the mistake of saying “think of what they’ve done to you.” 

She’s set off. He knows damn well she’s going to Bob Paris to get something out of this, she may not be (and probably won’t be) successful, but she’ll go anyway. He’s watching her struggle to open the door, and start having what looks like panic attack of sorts. He feels more than bad for her; he feels absolutely awful.

He hurries over, grabs her arms, and pulls her into him. He contemplates what he wants to say, and before he can pull his words back into his mouth he mumbles, “Okay. Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll go with you.”

“You will?”

“Yeah, I said I’ll go, and I’ll go.”

“Thank you,” she says softly into his shoulder.

Before he even knows what he’s doing, his arms slowly start running up and down her back. Suddenly he’s very aware of her breathing on his neck, and he feels her nose brush against him. She brings her arms around his neck and places her head on his chest. His hands are still trailing up and down her back. He’s doing more than hugging her, he’s touching her. It’s oddly intimate, and she must realize what he’s doing, because he feels her hold her breath and look up at him with glassy eyes. He feels his hand trailing to her lower back again, he’s testing the waters, and he knows it’s dangerous. 

“Thank you, Alex.”

#

He’s kissing her, hard. His hands grope and claw at her back over the sweater she’s wearing, and they stumble forward until he’s got her back pressed against a wall. He grabs her wrists and pins them over her head. Her lips are on his neck and her hips are grinding against his.

“I want it.” She moans into his ears. “Alex, I want you.”

He grinds against her harder and watches her head fall back against the wall. She’s fighting for control. He lets her wrists go, her hands start on his buttons, and his are under her sweater trying to pull it off. Her breaths are deep, and she bites her lower lip with a smirk as her sweater falls to the floor. The makeup under her eyes is slightly smudged, the image of this is fucking beautiful and he doesn’t want to wait.

It’s not slow, or romantic. It’s hurried, messy, and fucking hot as hell. 

“Alex, please.”

“Norma,” he groans softly. 

His hand tangles in her hair and pulls her head back to kiss her neck. He feels her hands at his waist, and she starts unbuckling his belt. His hands are hiking up her skirt and toying with the lace of her underwear, he gently brushes his fingers against-

He wakes up to his alarm going off. He looks at the empty space next to him, and fuck she’s everywhere now, ruining his life. If he continues to dwell on this he’s going to be late. He needs to get up and shower, and while he’s at it, he should probably make it a cold one.

#

Agreeing to take her is the final nail in his coffin, or it feels like it. Bob is too calm, and he knows he has something up his sleeve, but he has no idea what it is or what to expect. Norma is calm, but for different reasons, she’s confident because she feels protected, and because she knows the damage she can do. And even with all of that, Bob is calmer than her. 

He’s in the dark and it’s terrifying. 

He tells her she’s losing her mind after the meeting with Bob. She rolls her eyes and leaves him anxious. He has to be at work soon, and he’s fuming about how not-serious she is about, well, all of this. His anxiety turns into annoyance when he drives to work, and he realizes that holy shit this woman is insane. 

#

Rebecca comes over to his house, and he tries to be present with her, despite his mind being a million places at once. She asks him how his day was and he lies; says it was fine. He’s not thinking about Norma this time, he’s actually thinking about Bob Paris, which is worse. He’s thinking about how badly he’s going to lose this election, and how the woman in front of him launders money for Bob, and how if he had half a brain he wouldn’t be involved with anyone in this town. 

But he silently thanks his corrupted town as she unbuckles his belt and he pops open the buttons on her shirt; if this were any other town this wouldn’t work. And maybe that’s Rebecca's appeal. How they shouldn’t be involved, but they are. It feels good to not follow the rules.

She’s on top of him, her hand on his bed frame, rocking into him, moaning his name. He comes right after she does. 

She sleeps next to him and he lies wide awake. The moonlight shining thought the window illuminates her back. He wishes he wanted to brush her hair away from her face, but he wants to be alone more than anything. 

#

When he's lying in the parking lot with a bullet in his chest, he figures this might as well have happened.

He can vaguely hear the EMTs telling him to stay here, to stay with them, and he doesn’t want to. He wants to go on to whatever is next.

A faint image of a bridge is all he can see. Vaguely, he can make out his mother's whisper telling him she'll meet him right there.

It's the bridge. The one she jumped off in the middle of June. He hears screams, yelling, and a faint beeping. The bridge is fading away, and so is he.

Everything is warmer now. He feels as if he's drifting. The voices are gone and the bridge is fading into nothing. And whatever this state of consciousness is, he likes it. There’s nothing where he is, no light to follow, no bridge to taunt him, not even pitch black. Only the vivid visual of nothingness. There’s something soothing about where he is, and he feels his own life leaving his body, or at least he hopes he does. 

But tragically he wakes up from it all. 

He’d be lying if he said that Norma wasn’t anywhere on his mind when he woke up. She wasn’t the first thing he thought of, but she’s somewhere between wondering who shot him (It’s Bob) and thinking he’ll throw up.

When he gets his phone, he starts composing a text to her before giving up and just calling. When her phone goes straight to voicemail he sighs and leaves her a message.  

Either Bob has her, or Bob killed her. Neither are ideal, but he hopes it’s only the former.

He calls again, but this time he doesn’t leave a voicemail. 

_I need you to call me._

_ASAP_

Nothing. 

When Marcus Young stops by his room, he knows Norma is in danger. He knows it when Marcus says he should’ve gotten the flash drive back. _Should’ve_. Implying that he’s out of options and that this is over.  

He hears the heart monitor speed up as when he looks at his phone to see no word from her. So, when he gets the chance he leaves and storms out to the parking garage to find Marcus. He has no idea what his intentions are until he breaks his driver’s window in his car, gets his gun, and kills him.

He could have died tonight, but instead he has to fight whatever comes at him with force. No more calm and witty remarks, he's done. He's fighting fire with fire now. He should have died while he had the chance. 

#

When he’s released from the hospital, he drives straight over to Norma’s. Her car isn’t there and he’s not sure if that’s a good sign. He parks his car in the woods, and runs up the stairs to knock on the door. No one answers, but the door is unlocked. He very quietly clears the house, and he doesn’t know how to interpret her door being unlocked with her being nowhere to be found. 

He’s so fucking tired of this, he has that thought almost every damn day now, and it’s what he’s thinking when he searches the house.

This flash drive is beyond the scope of what Norma can handle. If Bob shot him, and he knows he doesn’t even have it, God knows what they’ll do to her. He’s searching in the dining room when he realizes that she’s reckless, but not stupid. He knows that it’s not going to be in the house.

So he locks all the doors, walks upstairs and crashes in the room he’s pretty sure was Dylan’s. He misses the warmth he felt in the ambulance, he misses the nothingness. 

He hears movement in the house and it wakes him up. He quietly opens the door, and sees Norma in her foyer. He puts the gun he didn’t realize he was holding back in his pants, and stands at the top of the stairs. 

When he’s harassing her about the flash drive and where it is, she seems so tired of him, which is complete bullshit because he’s the one trying to help her. He knows Norma is using him, that doesn’t bother him as much as the fact that she doesn’t seem to care that he could be dead, or that she could be next.

She gives up the location of the flash drive relatively easily. It doesn’t change the fact that he’s tired of her, and everyone else in this town not caring. 

He’s tired of this bullshit. He’s fuming on the way to Dylan’s cabin. He’s put his life on the fucking line multiple times for this entire town. For her. 

He’s so fucking mad, and when Gunner opens the flash drive and he sees his mother’s name he goes from mad to furious. 

#

There’s a voice in the back of his head that tells him that no good will come of meeting with his father. He’ll take his mother’s name off the ledger maybe. But no good will come of him reminding his father how much he hates him, how much power he has, how he could make his life in prison a living hell. 

And as it turns out he’s right. Because the second he gets back into his car he breaks down, he’s so full of rage. He’s mad at his father, he’s mad at Norma for putting him in this situation, he’s mad at Bob Paris. The only person he’s not mad at has been dead for over twenty years. He misses his mom. He misses her so much. He’s trying not to cry as the lump in his throat creeps up on him, and he just needs to scream. But no one will care, or listen to the pain he’s carried deep in his bones for years. 

His father drove her to it, his father drove her to it. He repeats it like a mantra. It’s better than his mother committing suicide because that’s what she wanted. He’s lived with the fear that his mom made a choice, a choice that involved leaving her son. But it’s ridiculous because his father drove her to it. 

He finds himself at a bar, and when he has his sixth drink, he feels it. The warmth. His anger is muted as he drinks, and the more he drinks the better he feels (this isn’t new). He’s still angry, but at least he can think, not coherently, but he can think without anger getting in the way. He thinks about Norma, and how desperate she is, and he thinks about his mom. What his mom would have done for him, and for her family. And he gets it.

He understands her desperation. He understands why he’s sitting at a bar at 4:30 in the afternoon with his arm in a sling about to drink his seventh (or eighth) drink. 

He pays his tab and stubbles to his SUV. He’s not sure if he was hoping to sober up between the walk from the bar to his car, but he’s in no condition to drive. 

And it’s one of those things where he doesn’t realize he’s doing something until he’s done it, but he calls Norma.

“Are you drunk?” she asks over the phone.

He kicks his feet around in the gravel, “Norma, can you just come and get me?”

He hears her chuckle in the phone, “Is that a yes?”

“Norma, I-I don’t wanna start to regret-” he starts mumbling incoherently before she cuts him off.

“God, you’re in rough shape. Where are you?”

“Behind the Bay Street Bar, on um-”

“Bay Street?” He can hear the smile in her voice.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in like twenty minutes.”

#

As promised she picks him up, but not in her car. He starts to ask about where her old car went as he’s trying to buckle, but he can’t do both at the same time. 

Norma reaches over to get the buckle for him, and he’s suddenly very aware of her body stretching over his. He’s aware of how her hair smells, and how her body is literally pressed to his. He’s aware of how he feels, and begs her to take him to his house. He doesn’t want to put her out, but he’s not mad when she refuses to drop him off. 

She helps him stumble into a room, telling him to just sleep, and that she’ll check on him in a bit. He’s laying with his back facing her when she sits down on the bed, and he closes his eyes and smiles. This is nice; nicer than he’d like to admit. 

And once she asks what’s wrong it all starts coming out. He hopes he’s being coherent, but he can’t really tell. He starts talking about the ledger, and his mom, and his dad. He looks up into Norma’s eyes, and he can tell she hurts for him.

“Life is just so hard, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes.”

He starts pulling her down, and her eyes start to dart away from his. He pulls her closer to him and once she’s there he doesn’t know what to do. He’s very aware of her deep and heavy breaths, and how he’s now staring directly into her eyes. His hand is grasping her arm, pulling her even closer to him, and holy fucking shit he’s drunk. 

When she gets up to leave, he doesn’t start to panic, per say, but he does decide to say one last thing before he can stop himself.

“I think you’re beautiful.”

“You’re drunk, you’re not going to like that you said that to me in the morning.”

“Probably.”

#

He thinks about sliding a note under the office door now that he’s feeling better. He halfheartedly makes the bed, knowing she’ll just strip the bed later. When he’s done, he decides that he should actually go up to the house to say thank you.

He hears the soft sound of the piano playing and some laughter from the inside the house. He knocks, and when no one answers he starts to turn away, but he should say something, he needs to say something, right?

He sticks his head in the house to see Emma, Dylan, Norman, Norma, and someone he recognizes as Norma’s brother **;** he kicks himself for barging in on what looks like a private family moment. Norma sees him, he says thanks, and he gets talked into staying for dinner. 

(He secretly, very secretly, is okay with this outcome)

#

At dinner, they talk about plans for the motel, Norma says she wants to do some updating, and he just stays quiet and nods his head and gives the typical “Oh,” or “Wow” responses when appropriate. He makes some side conversation with Emma about homeschooling, how her dad is doing, and with Norma’s brother about how building the barn is going. It’s menial, and maybe it’s a mix of the alcohol that’s still in his system, and the wine he’s drinking now, but it feels very warm. And it’s nice. He glances up at Norma who’s deep in conversation with Dylan and Emma, and she’s laughing and smiling. 

Caleb’s chatter becomes muffled as he’s stares at her. She looks up and offers him a small smile. It’s a feeling he can’t quite explain, but he’s happy to see her happy. He holds her gaze, not long enough to arouse suspicion, but long enough for him to smile sheepishly and laugh to himself. 

He thinks back to when he was here last time for dinner, only a few months ago. It feels like a year has passed since then; they’ve changed somehow. He misses when he lived at the motel, and he starts kicking himself over all the missed chances he had to have come up her and enjoy her company. 

#

“You can stay in the motel if you don’t want to jump through hoops to get home.” 

He shakes his head while handing off a dirty plate to her “Here, and no, it’s fine. I’ll just call a cab.”

She takes the plate from him and places it in the sink, “No, no you won’t.” She crosses her arms and turns around so that the small of her back is resting against the counter, “I’ll take you home.” 

“Norma it’s not- it’s no problem. You’ve done enough for me.”

She rolls her eyes with a small smirk, “Fine,” she says as she uncrosses her arms and throws them up as she walks away. “Just trying to help.”

She grabs a rag and starts wiping down the counters as he chuckles. 

“You’re not taking a cab though, I’ll take you home,” she mumbles without turning around.

He wants to argue, but he figures he’ll compromise.

“Well, can I help you clean?” He offers as Dylan comes in with the serving tray.

“Hey Mom, Emma’s leaving.”

“No it’s fine, I’ll be ready to go in a second,” she mumbles to him before directing her attention to Emma. “I’m so glad you could make it, this worked out so well!”

“Yeah, it did. It was great Norma, I miss hanging out with you guys.”

He watches Norma hug Emma and give her a kiss on the forehead. “Of course, honey. Get home safe.”

Dylan walks Emma out, and Alex offers a small wave.

“I thought it was her and Norman?” He asks as he watches Dylan walk her out. 

She shrugs, “Emma helped Norman- no, sorry," she looks up from wiping down the counter and points her finger around until she gets it right. “Emma helped _Dylan_ with something _for_ Norman, and Dylan owed her dinner-? Something like that,” she shrugs and goes back to cleaning. 

“You all seem close,” he mumbles out loud. 

“Yeah,” she smiles. “We really are. It’s really nice.”

He nods his head and traces his finger around the tile on the counter. He smiles to himself, it’s a nice feeling being here. Being in a home. There’s something so intimate about it. He really shouldn’t care as much as he does, but it’s just nice to watch. It’s beautiful really, she’s beautiful.

He thinks about their moment in the motel room and his stomach sinks a little. 

#

The drive to the bar is quick and not as awkward as he thought it might be. He mumbles out a thank you, and that he’ll not bother her with this again. She, of course, says it isn’t a problem, and when she parks she awkwardly reaches around the console to give him a hug. 

There’s every reason to let go. It’s a small car, it’s an uncomfortable position, hugging someone over a center console. It’s awkward, but it isn’t because it’s her. He only has one arm wrapped around her and the other in his sling. He leans in and places his head on her shoulder, and feels both of her arms around him. It’s odd and doesn’t quite feel right. Her hands are gently rubbing his back, and she mumbles something about being sorry about his mother, but he can’t really focus on that. Her words and the hum of the car engine is drowned out in his thoughts. 

It’s dangerous. It’s not a comforting hug anymore, they’re both touching each other just for the sake of touching each other. His fingers brush against her neck and slid into her hair. Her breath hitches and he feel her pull back a little. It’s dark except for a few rays of light that shine from a street lamp into the car, illuminating them both. Sheepishly, she looks down and smiles. With his thumb, he brushes a strand of her hair out of her face. He wants to say that he remembers what he said earlier in the motel room, and that he meant it. But he stays quiet, he figures this moment doesn’t need words.

His breathing slows as they lock eyes with each other. She bites down on her lip and he presses his nose to her cheekbone, and he’s slowly inching toward her mouth.

And it’s like they both realized what they were doing, in a car, in an abandoned parking lot. He freezes with his lips inches away from hers. She looks up and chuckles, before shaking her head.

He gives her a kiss on her forehead before sitting back in his seat and opening his door. He leaves without saying another word. 

He walks to his SUV faster than normal. He looks straight ahead until he hears her engine shut off and her car door open. 

He turns around with his keys in hand to see her walking over, almost as quickly as he did. 

“Norma is everyth-”

She gently places one hand on the side of his face and the other on his chest and gently kisses him. Only for a moment, until she steps back. There’s something in her eyes that tells him that she’s way out of her comfort zone. So, this time he kisses her back. And he kisses her hard. 

Their lips are sliding together and it’s messy, and hurried unlike the moments before. He knows they’ve both wanted this, or at least he did.

“Norma I-,” he starts again between kisses. His only free hand slides up her arm, and neck to her hair. She’s deepening the kiss, and he’s not complaining, just a little confused. Their lips are sliding together and he wishes his other arm wasn’t in a sling so he could pull her closer, and have both hands on her at all times. 

She tilts her head and his lips slide off of hers. He kisses a line across her cheek and down her neck.

She’s quietly moaning, and it’s egging him on.

He slides his arm down to the small of her back as her lips meet his again. He turns them both around so that her back is to his SUV, and he presses her up against it. Her hands slide around his neck pulling him closer to her. And he just knows they’re both a moment a way from finishing, whatever this is, in his SUV.

But somewhere in the distance they hear laughter and a car door slam shut. He takes a step back, looks down, and laughs awkwardly. 

“I’m really sor-” she starts stepping out of the space between him and his car. 

He cuts her off, “No, it’s fine, I just-“ 

“Me too, I didn’t mean for it-” She pauses to gather herself and motions to her car. “I should get goi-”

“Yeah me too.”

She looks down and walks away and says bye without looking up. 

He watches her peel out of the parking lot, and he just sits in his car and falls back in his seat.

“Shit.”


	3. three

He's running out of reasons for them to talk. When he was living at the motel he could run into her every morning, but now? Now he has to wait for something to go wrong to see her, which is what they did before; just kind of danced around their feelings, each other, and any trouble Norma had gotten herself into.

He could call to say hello. Or to ask how she is. Or to apologize for kissing her. That's what people do, right?

He's not sorry about what happened, but it only seems right to apologize for senselessly making out with someone in the middle of a parking lot, and then just leaving.

Well, technically she left.

It's kind of a blur, really. A hot, messy blur.

Before this, they'd only talk when they had a reason to. And, yesterday the reason was that he was drunk, and before that it usually was a more urgent matter.

He's not even sure how to reach out to her, or if he even should. They have nothing to talk about, other than, well, what happened.

He's on his way to the grocery store when he sees a red Mustang speed by. He wonders if it's her.

He checks his watch. If he skips grocery shopping, he can drive to Portland to get her car and he could be back before ten. He could stop by her place tomorrow and pick up the Mustang, ten o'clock is kind of late for stopping by anyway.

Or, he could not insert himself into the situation, and do the damn grocery shopping that he's been meaning to for the last two days.

#

When he's almost to Portland he wonders if this is weird; getting her car back for her.

But none of this has to be weird if they don't want it to be. They're adults. They can do whatever they want and not address it. And not addressing it would work, except for the fact that he's fifteen minutes away from the city limits of Portland in search of her car. And if he didn't address it last night, he'll have to address why he went all the way to Portland to get her car.

He is distracted from his thoughts when he feels his pocket vibrate. He pulls out his phone and glances down to see Rebecca texted him.

_Are you free tonight?_

He feels this anxiety tightening in his chest. He shakes his head and turns his phone on silent as he pulls into the dealership.

#

She's ecstatic when she sees her car. And her happiness makes him feel good, until she mentions the "pool" Bob is building for her.

He's downplaying his own thoughts while she expresses how grateful she is. She takes a step closer to him and asks him why he did it, and he stands there with a loss of words for a moment; just like he did the other night.

"It's- I don't know, I just, uh, I couldn't stand the thought of you being sad about it, and I could do something, or fix it. Whatever that means," he finishes with a fleeting smile.

She steps into his personal space, with the same confidence she did the other night. She's smiling softly as she glances in his eyes for a brief moment, and he's unsure what she's going to do. She kisses him on the cheek, and lingers there for a moment before squealing, and running inside for the pink slip leaving him outside to think about Bob Paris (and the kiss she left him on his cheek).

When she comes running back out with the pink slip, she gives him another hug that is both warm and lingering.

Out of all the things he's done for her, this is by far the most intimate.

"Thank you Alex," she mumbles into his shoulder before letting go. "I really can't believe you did this for me."

He huffs a smile and takes the pink slip.

He glances at the hole in the ground as he leaves and he decides to swing by Bob's before driving back to Portland.

#

He listens to Bob share these private parts of Norma's life. He's uncomfortable that Bob knows all of this, and has leverage.

It'd be just as easy to blame Bob for his rage as it would be to pull out his gun and empty his clip on him, but he's not stupid. He's scared. He's scared because when Bob says that Norman killed his father, he absolutely believes it. Every detail he's overlooked and looked away from suddenly falls into place.

#

The entire drive from White Pine Bay and back, he's thinking about how it all makes sense. Norman is an odd kid. He's known that. But Bob's words stick out, that he "blacks out and gets violent."

He thinks about Jimmy Brennen, and Blair Watson, and even Keith Summers.

Norma took responsibility for Keith in private. She said that after Keith had raped her, she killed him. But honestly, he's not even sure what's real and what's not anymore.

When he drives back into White Pine Bay he heads straight for the motel. He parks behind her car, takes a deep breath, and walks up to the house.

#

The sun rises the next morning and he rolls out of bed late, and he just feels like there is no fucking point. No point to any of it anymore. He checks his phone to see seven missed calls from Norma, and he has a brief (really brief) thought of calling her back, but he can't. He refuses to. He doesn't know what's true, or when she's being honest. He's so fucking done.

He walks to his fireplace and removes the brick in the floor and takes out the flash drive. He looks over his shoulder, he's paranoid. He needs to do something with it.

He's holding it tight in his pocket as he walks out to his car. It's heavy in his pocket, not literally, but he's hyper aware that it's there weighing down his every step. He's not taking it back into his house, or giving it back to Norma.

So he calls the DEA.

He's done nothing but protect the people in this town, and now he's done. Done with them, and done with her.

Later that night when Norma comes storming into the station, he's furious. She's a small, wound-up, ball of rage, and he knows that just seeing her makes his blood pressure skyrocket. He knows what she wants. The flash drive is in evidence now. It's too late. The DEA is involved. She's screwed. Bob's screwed. He doesn't care.

"And were done talking. About anything."

#

When he gets home he sees Rebecca's car sitting in his driveway. When he walks in, they exchange a few words to each other before they find themselves in his bedroom.

They peel off each other's clothes and stumble towards his bed. It's fast and hurried, and suddenly she's on top of him. Her hand grips the headboard as she moves. It's comfortable; it's how they usually fuck. But now, it's not enough.

He rolls her over so she's on lying on her back, he grips her hips, and fucks her. Hard. Her back arches off the bed and she's moaning his name, egging him on.

He's not even thinking about anything in particular, just how frustrated he is. And it feels so good to get all of this pent up anger out.

They come, they fall asleep, and when he wakes up she's not there.

#

He's reminded why he shouldn't make abrupt, brash decisions (like turning a monumental piece of computer into the DEA) when Agent Babbitt comes into his office. She asks him about his father and starts speculating how he got elected, and he realized that in addition to screwing over everyone in this town; he screwed himself over too.

And part of him doesn't even care.

#

He comes home later that night to find Norma in his house. It's just adding to his rage.

His entire life he's had so much hatred inside him. He hates himself for lying. He hates her for getting in the middle of everything. He hates her for kissing him. He hates her for asking "how could you do that to me?" when he tells her that he turned the flash drive over to the DEA.

He owes her absolutely nothing. He's protected her. He's lied for her. He's done everything he fucking can for her.

She's heading for the door and he knows he should just let her go. He should let her work all this shit out for herself for once. But he grabs her arm and pins her against the wall instead.

"Why did you lie to me?"

"I didn't-"

" **Oh come on, you know you're husband didn't die- he didn't die in an accident, you know it and I know it** ," he's shouting at her three inches away from her. " **So tell me the truth. For once in your life tell me the truth Norma**."

She pauses for a moment, and he thinks she'll say it. That Norman killed his father. He looks in her eyes and he's silently begging her. Just to be honest with him. He has to know. If she tells him the truth, they can work this out. He can try to protect her.

"I did it, I killed him."

He tightens his grip on her when she lies again.

" **NO COME ON, THE TRUTH**."

"He was abusive and I-"

" **GOD DAMNIT THE TRUTH**."

"He was hitting me and I hit him in the head with a blender. And I-I didn't mean to kill him, but I did. And I dragged his body into the garage and I made it look like an accident-"

" **STOP LYING TO ME**."

He's full on yelling at her now. He's begging her. She begins to take a deep breath and she starts sobbing.

"You know the truth don't make me say it."

And he watches her breakdown in the space between him and the wall.

He loosens his grip on her and she starts hitting him. He deserves it on some level, but he's still fuming. She slaps him in the face, and he finally gets a hold on her. He grabs her even tighter than before, and slams her body against the wall. His blood pulsing through his entire body as he pins her wrists down.

They're so close. His nose is touching her cheek and he can feel the dampness of her tears. She's so upset, and he's so turned on; it's horrendous. His hands let her wrists go, and he slides his thumb over the side of her cheek. His fingers lightly brush against her neck and he brushes a strand of hair out of her face with his thumb. It doesn't feel real; he's a bit dizzy, and reality feels slightly altered. He knows this is bad. Very, very bad.

His lips are hovering over hers and he want's nothing more than to take her right now. Literally right now. He wants her more than he ever thought he would. He hardly kisses her cheek and her jaw before she pushes him away.

"Don't, don't touch- please don't touch me," she begs.

She turns her face away from him and he freezes. Realizing what he's doing, what he's already done.

"Don't you touch me." It's a statement now, not a plea. She slides out between him and the wall.

He watches her walk out, and this guilt washes over him as he starts cleaning up his house.

#

He's trying to not let last night get to him.

He can't help her. He can't even help himself. She's going to lose her son (probably); he's going to lose his job (definitely). And he feels so helpless. He tries not to think about solutions to this problem, because there is nothing. He. Can. Do.

Every hour or so he catches himself thinking of a way to get out of this situation. And he stops himself. He's so far in this there's no way out. Everything is closing in.

He doesn't have time to think of a solution, even if he wanted to. They are raiding Bob's house tonight. Tonight will be the beginning of the end for Norma. And he's trying to not let it bother him.

Before the raid, he drives by her house. He's not sure why. It's not to apologize; he's not sorry about what he did. Just that she's so helpless, and that he's run out of ways to help her.

He isn't sure what to expect from her; he wonders if she'll hit him again, or if she'll just ignore him completely. But he is surprised when she kind of shrugs the whole thing off with only a single tear.

"We're all doomed in the end right?"

God, she's given up too. They're both hopeless.

He shrugs, "Maybe. Probably."

He watches her walk up to the house, and he wishes he never stopped by because five minutes later he's calling Bob Paris; no doubt digging himself into a deeper hole.

#

Beside himself. That's the only way to describe how he feels standing over Bob Paris' body.

He even came to the boat with the intention to kill him. He knew that's how the night was going to go. God, he feels ill.

Bob was right. Fuck. Bob was right. He's turning into his father.

Norma and Norman. He thinks about Norma and Norman, that's why he did this. He thinks of how she doesn't deserve to get her son taken away. How he has these complex feelings for her that struggles to describe.

He comes back to reality and starts his journey out to the middle of the ocean.

By the time he comes back, it's morning. He's gotten no sleep and meets up with Babbitt. She's angry, and he's actually worried about what this means for him. Like giving the DEA the flash drive, he reacted too quickly and abruptly. Making careful, calculated decisions used to be what he was good at, but now he's all over the place; screwing himself over left and right.

Turns out killing Bob Paris was the best decision he's made in a while because while Babbitt isn't pleased with the fact that the operation failed, she makes it clear that she's got enough to worry about. She leaves him with a firm handshake and a "we'll be in touch." Both of which frighten him.

He figures they pretty much have it from here. They'll look for Bob Paris for a while. Seize his information and records, and when they can't find him they'll move on.

But there is literally no garbage in his town now. Right? Bob's dead, or missing, rather. All the people that invested in the drug trade are in custody. He ended the drug war back in August. There's nothing they can get him on anymore. He's just cleaning up the town. That's what he says over and over. He's just cleaning up the town, he's tying up all the loose ends that his father left behind.

He's _not_ his father.

And he believes it until he realizes that he has Bob Paris' cash under a brick in his fireplace.

#

There is no use reaching out to her. Every time he talks to her, his life gets that much more complicated. He's enjoying the calm right now. And not reaching out works until she speeds into his driveway as he's leaving for work.

He worries until she says Norman is in the Willamette county hospital on a medical hold. And there is something so calming about not being able to do anything. He can't be involved, and that's a nice feeling. On some level he wishes he could help speed up the process, for her sake anyway.

But he can't, it's not his jurisdiction. There is a part of him that's angry that she would even ask. She has no clue what he's done for her. He literally killed a man for her not even two days ago.

He tells her to be patient and pray. Two things he gave up on a long time ago.

#

He enjoys the silence. For the most part the day is pretty slow. There's a residential burglary down south, and he responds to a domestic disturbance, but that's pretty much it. Until Rebecca calls him.

He doesn't want to deal with this now. He wants to turn his phone off, but there's something telling him he shouldn't because Norma might call. Ugh, he feels so damn guilty. He knows he's using Rebecca (and she's using him too), but it doesn't feel right anymore. He can't pinpoint why, but he knows Norma has something to do with it. They just kissed, that's it. It didn't have to mean anything, just like him and Rebecca using each other doesn't have to mean anything.

It doesn't make the situation ideal though.

And the worst part? He knows if Norma calls, he'll go to her. He knows if she's sad, he'll hold her. He'll kiss her. He'll want to take away her pain. And even after all of that, he knows he'll still have these complex feelings of frustration toward her. And he still won't know what to do with himself, or her.

He knows the moment that he steps on that property he's going to drown in their chaos. His head is barely above water, and he wonders when her chaos became their chaos.

Norma is a force of nature. And for that reason, he can't let himself get lost in her.

#

When she wakes him up with a phone call telling him she needs to meet with him, he's already ready for the day to be over, and to get back in his bed tonight.

And when she shows up and tries to come in, he blocks the entry way to his house. He's afraid of her and the news she brings, and afraid for her because of her son.

"I need insurance. You have insurance. So I thought you could marry me."

He actually freezes.

It isn't until she calls him out for being attracted to her and offering to sleep with him does he physically react. He's pretty sure that he cringes when she offers because- no. He won't do that. Not to her. Not like that.

But it's all a transaction. That's what their relationship is to her. Their relationship was built on a foundation of favors, and now they're here.

He doesn't think he has the strength to tell her no, but he finds it anyway.

 

#

The next day he's so bothered by their conversation at his door. He's only somewhat bothered by her offer of trading insurance for- well, sex. But he's more bothered by the urgency in her voice, and how desperate her offer was.

When he stops by to check on them, he doesn't know what to say other than sorry. And as he's talking to her, he hears Bob Paris' voice echo in his head; he armed him with the truth about Norman.

He sees how desperate she truly is. She's scared. She won't give it up, but he can tell that she's convinced herself that she isn't terrified. And that thought scares him.

She shoos him away after talking about filling the pit, and he walks away feeling worse than when he came.

When he's driving away, he thinks about her options. Norman needs help, and Norma needs money. There aren't too many other options that make as much sense as getting married. Right?

He feels better when he thinks about Norman getting help, he feels better when he thinks about Norma being safe. The feeling is fleeting and brief, but he knows he has to do it.

He has to.

#

He deiced to go to Pineview before talking to Norma again. And when the woman accepts the money he knows there is no going back now.

He calls her to say that he got Norman into Pineview, and that he'll marry her. He can't help that warm feeling in his chest that spreads, it's not about him. It's about getting Norma insurance, it's about getting Norman the help he needs.

#

Later in the evening he checks his phone for the first time in a while and sees a missed call with a voicemail from Norma. It's from almost an hour ago. He feels as if he sinks into the floor as he listens to her whispering in the voicemail, and within a few minutes they're on their way to her house.

He runs up the steps the fastest he ever has. He's bracing himself for what he might find when he walks into the house, and he thankfully finds them both alive in the basement.

He won't let Norman back in that house, he's going somewhere. County or Pineview he doesn't care, but he is not going back into that house, or anywhere near his mother. He doesn't have the heart to ask what happened. Looking at her is enough; he is now convinced that she knows that her son is dangerous.

Whatever happened was enough for her to change her mind.

Norman signs the papers, and he gets him in the car. And he can't bring himself to look at her when he drives away.

#

The highway bends around the coastline, and he knows he probably shouldn't be driving this stretch of road at night, but Norman needs help, like yesterday. He tries his best to make sure Norman knows he's not in trouble, and that it's all going to be okay.

Even with his eyes on the road, he can tell Norman isn't in his right mind. He knows this is Norman at his most dangerous. He sits up straighter and is much less hysterical. Norman takes an audible deep breath and huffs out a laugh when he reminds Norman again that it'll all be okay.

"We'll see Sheriff, we'll see."

He swears he sees Norman smile, and it sends a numbing chill down his spine.

#

It's nearly one in the morning when he gets back to his house. He calls her and she answers after the first ring. She's still frantic, and she talks between shallow breaths and sobs. They agree tomorrow is the day they need to get married. He hangs up and feels this sadness in the back of his throat, and it doesn't go away until the next morning when he walks out the door with his mother's wedding ring.

#

They're surrounded by happy couples about to get married in a courthouse. It makes him think back to when he got married all those years ago. How happy and stupid he was.

And maybe not so much has changed because he's happy to help her, and stupid for marrying her.

She awkwardly rests her body against him and puts her head on his shoulder. It's nearly tragic how awkward this is for both of them, because they've kissed and danced around their feelings for each other for a while now.

It's so surreal.

When they're saying they're vows he's actually nervous, which is ridiculous because it's not real. It's not forever.

He ignores the twinge of pain he gets when he thinks about how this is all means to an end and gives his mother's ring to Norma. He's ignoring the feeling he gets when he slides it on her finger. When their eyes lock she's breathless, and behind her eyes he can see the smallest amount of heartbreak.

And when they kiss, he cups her head with his hand and very gently their lips slide together. Neither pull away for a moment, unsure what to do, or how far to take this.

It was sweet, innocent, and not enough. A complete contrast to what happened a few weeks ago.

He leaves her for work with the promise to come by her house tonight and with a small kiss in front of the courthouse.

(Real, it has to look real)

#

He gets seven phone calls before he leaves work.

Everyone is generally pretty happy for him, but their voices are all somehow confused. Like they were calling to verify what they heard was or wasn't true, their congratulations was more of an afterthought. Everyone is so nosey and it makes him laugh.

That's pretty much how he spends his day. Besides getting married, a few work-related phone calls, and calling in a favor to a friend to fill the pit in front of Norma's house, his day is rather uneventful.

#

When he gets to her house and starts hanging his clothes in the closet is when it really starts to hit him, that he's married. Not that married couples sleep in different rooms, but as he's organizing the closet he realizes that, holy shit, he's really doing this. They're really doing this.

He looks at his bag and he realizes that he packed so quickly he forgot his toothpaste. He rolls his eyes at himself. Was he that desperate to get over to her house that he couldn't even pack his damn things properly?

Apparently.

He walks downstairs and attempts to make small talk with her for about thirty seconds before just cutting to the chase, and telling her that he's taking her out to dinner.

#

He's driving them into town, and he can tell that she's still hesitant about going. They make awkward small talk in the car as she picks at the hem of her coat. They briefly talk about Norman. It's too weird to talk about anything else at this point, so they stick to what they know.

"I know it's hard to believe, but you are doing the right thing."

"I know, I know. Thank you, Alex."

"Well, it's true I-"

"No, for helping me. For helping us. Norman is getting the help he needs because of you. And I am just so grateful."

"Well, I want to help. I want him to get better."

He doesn't say anything else until he parks, the silence is comfortable now. Neither of them move for a moment until he takes a deep breath.

She gets out of the car and walks a few paces in front of him. He rushes to get to the door before she does, and quickly takes her hand in his before being greeted by his friend.

"What are you doing?" she whispers as he opens the door for her.

"We're married. Remember?" He tilts his head to whisper so only she can hear.

She looks up at him for a split second, like she's surprised, but then she smiles. His hand catches hers, and his thumb slides over her knuckles. She squeezes his hand in return.

And she doesn't let go until they take their seats at the table.

#

Dinner goes well. She's laughing, he's laughing, they're getting to know each other. It seems like a good idea, after all, they're married. They're learning about each other, all those little intimate details that they should already know.

He tells her he just turned 47, he's an only child, he's from here, but lived in California and Washington for a bit. He gives her details like how he doesn't have a favorite color, but if he had to pick it'd probably be blue. How he hates pickles. Stupid details like those.

He learns she was born on April second of 1974. She's from Ohio, then moved to Arizona. Her favorite color is lavender. She's an avid coffee drinker.

He knows her on this deeper level, he knows her secrets, her demons. It's nice to know the smaller, more trivial details. It's odd to be reminded that she had a life before White Pine Bay. One he wasn't involved in, she had a past and so did he. And then they met.

The more they drink the more they open up. He tells her he was married before and how she left him. She tells him that she left home when her high school boyfriend got her pregnant and then had Dylan. How she had an affair with Norman's father, got married, and then had Norman.

He's not sure how to react until she laughs. She's right, you can't make this shit up.

"Can I ask you a question?" She asks, the laughter lingering in her voice.

"Sure we're married."

"Um, who the hell do you sleep with? I mean-"

"What?"

"I-I mean, you know what I mean. You must be sleeping with someone all this time."

He falls back in his seat, wondering how forthcoming to be. "Yeah, I got people I see."

"Oh, that's cryptic," she gives him a sly smile as he sips his champagne. "Is it anyone I know?"

"Possibly, yeah. It's a small town."

"I want names."

He feels this warmth in his chest that spreading, he chuckles and she looks intrigued.

"Um, well, a friend of mine introduced me to this woman who works at the bank and we-"

"Became friends?" She raises an eyebrow at him.

"Uh- yeah, something like that," he mumbles into his glass before taking a sip.

She just shrugs and smiles, "Just wondering, I was curious."

"About what," he chuckles. "Why I'm- was single?"

"No, I _know_ why you were single. Just wondering who you were sleeping with. "

He rolls his eyes at her jab at him, "Well, any other questions?"

"Not right now," she purses her lips together and smirks. "But I'll let you know."

#

Her drunk self makes him laugh, which makes her laugh harder. He knows today wasn't easy, and yesterday was no better. He knows tomorrow may be bad, but at least in this moment she's laughing.

She stumbles out of his car and they head for the house. He walks behind her as she clumsily walks the steps until they get to the porch. He holds her waist as she walks the stairs in the house, laughing with her. It's odd and intimate and unnecessary because she probably could have handled the steps on her own, but any excuse to touch his wife, honestly.

He also knows that he doesn't need to come to her room, but he does anyway. He sits on the edge of her bed and she reaches out, her hand landing on his forearm. Her hair is a bit disheveled, and her eyes are glassy from all the laughter, and it's the most relaxed he's ever seen her. Not that long ago it was him in this position. Drunkenly holding her hand and telling her that she's beautiful as she sat where he is now. He feels this new wave of emotion coming, he's happy they ended the day like this. He gives her one last smile before getting up.

She looks both confused and not thrilled that he got up to leave and to go to bed, further cementing the fact that if he stayed in her room longer, they would have gotten closer. Much closer, and not for the sake of "making it look real."

He knows that he isn't what she needs right now.

"Goodnight Mrs. Romero," he says as he leaves her room.

"I'm keeping my name!" She shouts to him as he leaves, he smirks as he walks out to his room.

He shuts the door, turns off the lights, and falls on the bed. He's content with drifting off until this unsettling feeling emerges. He thinks about last night. How hard it was for her. He still doesn't know what happened, he only knows how Norman was while driving up to Pineview. Norman frightens him, and he has to wonder who Norma has been really living with, and for how long.

The unsettling smile on her son's face. It was a confidence from Norman he'd never seen before. He thinks about the blackouts, and what happened to his father. He thinks about what Norma isn't telling him, and barely gets any sleep.

#

He's in her shower trying to figure out how to get the temperature where he wants. The water is a little too hot for his liking and he wonders if this is a sign. Maybe he should just take the day off, he's dreading the second wave of questions from the office. There is no honest explanation to give them, other than he's a private person. No one has asked how they met; how they fell in love, and he's not sure how to answer those questions. Maybe it won't happen today, but it will soon. They'll pry his life open, and with the DEA watch him it's not exactly ideal.

He quietly steps down the stairs, careful not to wake her. He wanders into the kitchen and leaves a little note on the coffee machine, and heads out the door. And it isn't until glances up at the house before driving off does he realize, like really realize, Norma Bates' is his wife. The words still feel funny in his mouth when he says them. But he likes them, and he could get used to them.


End file.
